Claimed
by Richonne
Summary: Beth must use her wits to escape the lunatic who took her from Daryl that night at the funeral home. Daryl refuses to give up searching for her.


1.

Daryl was doing his level best to not lose patience with Joe, but the old man wasn't making it easy.

"I've been on my own before," he said, for what felt like the millionth time. He thought he could probably say it another million but it wouldn't put Joe off.

"Yep, so you've said," Joe acknowledged. "Look, Daryl, I get it. You don't want to make new friends because you're sick of losing people. Like this woman Len spoke of."

"You don't know nothing about it. Neither did he."

"I know you love her. That's obvious. So, I propose this: I help you find your woman. We all head out to this Terminus place together. I avenge Lou, if his killer is there, and if he ain't, I'll have to keep looking. Either way me and my gang move on. If you and…"

He waited for Daryl to supply a name.

"Beth."

"Pretty name. If you and Beth want to settle down there at Terminus, do that, or, you could both move on with me and my group. Your choice."

Daryl wondered if Joe would really let go that easily. He seemed to have a yen for convincing Daryl to join his group. Daryl also wondered if the man Joe was looking for was someone he knew from the prison. He hoped not. If it came down to choosing between Joe and anybody from his old group, he'd go with his old group. No matter what, help in finding Beth would increase his chances of survival until he located her.

"You won't try to talk me into giving up on Beth?"

"No. If you haven't found her in a reasonable amount of time I'll just come back to my men and wish you luck on your own."

Daryl decided to take Joe at his word, since a man's word was something Joe seemed to respect more than anything else.

"One thing," Daryl said. "Claimed."

"What's claimed?"

"Beth."

Joe grinned. "Understood."

Beth Greene watched Daryl run after her. She heard him call her name. She tried to open the car door but it was rigged to remain firmly shut.

Her eyes snapped open as she came awake in the hellish confines of a wooden box. She'd had the same dream every time she fell asleep, which had been many times in the three or four days she'd been held in solitary confinement. She knew she was in a windowless garage that was locked up so tight it was in perpetual darkness, but exactly where that garage was remained a mystery.

Daryl had made it. He'd survived the attack. He was out there, alive, and Beth wondered if he still searched for her, or if he'd given up.

He could have given up.

Beth tried to banish such thoughts. She couldn't allow herself to believe Daryl had given up on her, or she would give up on herself.

She tensed when she heard footsteps from outside. They came three times a day to push a bottle of water in through the small opening in the top of the box. Now the golden light of evening stabbed at her eyes, making them water. She squinted, trying to adjust, as the lid was pulled open.

The man who'd taken her stepped back and made an exaggerated gagging sound. The smell was admittedly horrible but not Beth's fault. She had no choice but to lie in her own piss and shit since he refused to allow her out of the box to use the bathroom.

"It's a lovely evening," he said. "Come up out of there and get some fresh air."

Beth struggled to stand after days of being balled up in the hot box. She was dehydrated, hungry, and weak. He slipped a collar around her neck and attached a leash. If she wasn't so dizzy and sick she would have been offended.

"I'm Father Thorn," he said conversationally, as though they were meeting on her first visit to his church for Sunday services. "Your name is Beth. I heard that man, Daryl, call you Beth. Last name?"

"Greene," she said, seeing no reason to lie.

"Beth Greene. What's Daryl's last name?"

"Dixon," she said tiredly.

"You're nice and agreeable. I like that in a woman. Stand over here."

He tied the leash to a pole by the garage door, which he lifted completely up to allow lava colored light to flood the garage. He whistled upon seeing her clearly.

"My God, you're absolutely filthy."

There was genuine disgust in his voice, as though the state she was in was her fault, as though she'd chosen to be covered in her own waste and days of sweat.

"When did you last have a proper bath?"

"What does it matter?"

"Mmmm," he said, and shook his head. "See, that's not agreeable, and I don't like it when women are disagreeable."

He backhanded her, then stood back and crossed his arms while her lip bled.

"When did you last have a proper bath?"

"A few weeks ago."

"When was the last time you got to wash up?"

"The day before you took me."

"Five days, then. You'll be happy to know that I've got soap and clean water here. Stay right there and undress"

_As though I can go anywhere,_ Beth thought angrily. She could barely remain standing, but she managed to undress. She decided to do it without a fight. She didn't wish to be hit again.

_Is he going to rape me?_

He returned a couple of minutes later with a bar of soap, a wash cloth, and a water hose. He turned the hose on her, dousing her with cool water. After the shock was over it felt quite good. Beth tried to get some into her parched mouth and when she did, it was like heaven.

"Lather up first, then I'll rinse you. After that, use the wash cloth. You've got a lot of grime on you."

He made her wash and rinse three times. Each time he took particular care to spray her breasts and between her legs. He looked upon her with unabashed lust and she knew she wouldn't have the strength to put up a fight if he tried something.

"I bet you would really like a nice meal. Maybe sleep in a bed."

She took a step backward at mention of a bed and he laughed.

"Don't be afraid, Sweetie. I won't do something as vulgar as rape you and sully your virtue. I won't take you into my bed until we've been joined in the bonds of matrimony."

"I don't want to marry you."

"You will. You will come to want me or I'll have to put you down like some rabid bitch."

He took Beth's leash and pulled. She followed him on shaky, weak legs toward a church that was meticulously kept. The lawn was cut, a brick wall, about six feet high, circled the yard. She could smell some kind of meat cooking as soon as she was brought inside.

"We're having chicken and roasted veggies," he said. "I keep chickens in the coop out back, and there are plenty of vegetables in this wild garden that one of my neighbors used to keep. Have a seat."

He sat her at the kitchen table and then took the collar off. He took the chair across from her and studied her.

"I'm going to give you choice now. After dinner you can go back inside your hot, stinking box, or, you can remain in here and be treated like a young lady. No, no, wait," he said, holding up a finger before Beth could answer. "If you choose the box I will lock you up nice and tight and know where you are, and I'll make the same offer to you tomorrow. If you choose to stay in here and then make an attempt to escape, I will beat you most severely. I will cut off one of your feet and then cauterize the wound with a torch. I won't marry a defective woman so you'll be good for nothing but to amuse me. I get my amusement on defective women by raping and torturing them. Do you understand your choices?"

Beth nodded. "Yes."

He smiled. "Good."

Beth had indeed planned to make a run for it, but the idea of losing a foot terrified her, and she had no doubts this man would mutilate her, gleefully so. She was exhausted and weak. If she made an escape attempt she knew she'd fail. She would have to wait, bide her time. When she was strong she would make her move.

"You won't try to run?"

"I won't try to run," she confirmed.

His smile turned into a cheerful grin that she thought would haunt her for the rest of her life. "I'm going to show faith in you, Beth Greene. I'm going to give you a chance to make me either regret trusting you, or be pleased that I did."

She was made to wash her old clothes and hang them up to dry in the back yard. He didn't follow her out, only watched from the kitchen as he finished cooking dinner. When she was finished she returned to the kitchen where she was finally allowed to put something on. He gave her a black dress that looked like something an Amish girl would wear. He didn't include panties or shoes. She didn't care. She was covered from his prying eyes for awhile, at least.

After dinner he served apple pie.

"You're so tired. I can see the weariness in your eyes. I don't blame you. After four days in a that shitty box I'd be worn out too. I'll be nice and wash up tonight. As my fiancé, however, you will be responsible for cooking and cleaning from now on. That is, after all, woman's work. Understood?"

She nodded.

"Have you any questions for me?"

"Are you a real priest?" she asked.

"Why do you ask? Do I seem corrupted to you? Do you think that a man of the cloth could somehow remain pious and unsullied by the horror of this world?"

"The sign out front said this is a Baptist church and you're dressed like a Catholic priest."

He laughed, genuinely amused. "Oh, Beth! Such a cute sense of humor you have! Very observant, I must say. No, I'm not a priest, though I do believe in God. I wear this, and go by the name 'Father' Thorn, to spit in God's face for allowing this horror to happen to humanity. Do you believe in God?"

"Yes."

"Good. Good. You will come to hate him as I have, I am sure. If you don't already."

"I don't hate God. Not yet," she added, hoping to keep him appeased. He seemed pleased by her answer.

"Any other questions?"

"What happened to Daryl?"

"Do you have feelings for him?"

"He's my friend."

Father Thorn smirked. "Oh, my love. You're so naïve. I watched the two of you. I listened to you. That man wasn't your friend. That man wanted to fuck you. He would have seduced you, eventually. Or raped you."

Beth shook her head. "Daryl wouldn't hurt me. He's a good man."

Father Thorn's face turned hard when Beth stood up for Daryl. Her affection for another man angered him. "You will never speak his name again in my presence. Do you understand?"

She nodded. He seemed to unwind at her acquiescence.

"It's early yet. I'll send you to your room and give you a book to read. You may read for one hour, then put your candle out and go to sleep. There is a bucket in your room to defecate in. You will be locked in tonight. After I know you can be trusted I will stop locking you in. Understood?"

"Yes."

"Good girl."

He did as he said he would, and locked her into a small room that had a cot, a bedside table, and a tiny window with bars on the outside. There was a bucket in the corner, and an old milk jug filled with water, with a small glass beside it. She drank most of the water, hoping to hydrate. It made her feel stronger but it wasn't enough to get her back to full strength. She blew out the candle laid down on the cot, and prayed to God the lunatic who'd taken her wouldn't rape her.

Seconds after her head hit the pillow, Beth was asleep.

2.

Morning came in cloudless. With it being mid-August, it also came in hot and dry. Father Thorn banged on the door and gave Beth five minutes to freshen up. She brushed her teeth and then drank the rest of the water in the jug, trying to fully hydrate. She just wanted to stop feeling dry and weak.

Most of the morning was spent learning how to use Father Thorn's system for cooking and cleaning. The stove had been converted to burn wood. There was a hand pump in the corner of the kitchen to get water from the well, and buckets were carried over to wash dishes. For their breakfast she fixed scrambled eggs, toast, and boiled water for tea.

"This is very good, Beth. You can cook. That's a plus in your favor," he said, regarding breakfast.

"Thanks."

"You know, I'll have to pick some vegetables for our dinner. I also want to start canning for the winter. Would you like to help?"

"Yes."

He looked pleased with her quietly spoken answers. He speared eggs with his fork and pointed it at her. "You're not lazy. I'm glad. The last one didn't want to lift a finger around here."

"I'm not the first?"

Thorn laughed at that. He misread her reaction, mistaking horror for jealousy. "Don't tell me you're jealous. Not already! You're the third. My first woman forced me to mutilate her. I keep her in the barn. I want you to meet her today and see firsthand what happens when you try to run. My second woman killed herself. She was weak anyway. All that bitch did was whine about some brat and useless man she'd lost in the attack at the funeral parlor. I can't recount how many times I told her I'd give her children, but it never lifted her mood."

He ate his eggs and spoke of the pain he'd caused and the lives he'd ruined the way most people would complain about having to sacrifice a sunny Saturday afternoon to organize the closets and trim the yard. Beth wanted to put her fork down but she kept eating. She had to build up her strength so she could make a run for it.

Once the kitchen was clean Thorn took her on a tour of the church. He showed her his bedroom, which had once been the dining room for church social functions. It was a very large room with lots of windows that he kept covered with black curtains. The walls had been painted blood red. In fact, most everything he'd scavenged from nearby homes to decorate were in black or dark red, sometimes dark blue or green. It was a depressing room and she was glad to leave it.

"The pastor's study is now your room. Here's the old Sunday school room. We'll use that for our kids. We'll have three. If you get pregnant after that I'll abort them. No need to fear, darling Beth. I've extensively studied medical books on how to perform an abortion safely. As a matter of fact, I did two on Reggie. That would be Regina. You'll meet her in a few minutes. Now, come see the sanctuary."

He threw up his arms and said, "Ta-dah! What do you think?"

Beth swallowed. The walls were cream colored, the carpets maroon. The pews were wooden and the padded seats matched the carpet. What was disturbing was that all the crosses had been turned upside down. Behind the pulpit the image of the Last Supper had been slashed and moved to the floor. Above it was a caricature of Satan stomping Jesus underfoot. Pornographic images of women being raped and beaten, tied down and tortured, hung on posters on the walls and on the back of every pew.

_This man is insane_, Beth thought. She realized, once again, just how dangerous he was.

What Beth wouldn't give for Daryl to come rushing through that door to save her, but she knew that wasn't going to happen. She'd have to save herself, and that started here, now, by making this lunatic happy.

"Looks great," she said, and fought back the urge to cry. "Looks like a professional came in and decorated."

She gave him a trembling smile and he tilted his head to the side with a look of misty joy.

"Beth Greene. I'm falling in love with you. I can't wait to make you my wife."

Her plan to keep Father Thorn happy fell apart when they went to the barn. Beth's feet seemed to weigh fifty pounds each, and they only got heavier as they approached the barn, where Father Thorn said he kept his first victim, Regina. She dreaded meeting the other woman's eyes and seeing the pleading hope that Beth could save her from Father Thorn's nightmare.

The chickens in the yard scattered and clucked, making Beth long for the farm she'd grown up on. She longed for her father, and she wished more than anything she could see Maggie one more time before she left this world.

The hay that had been scattered on the floor had long lost its sweet smell. It had absorbed the stink of shit, piss, and death. Inside, the barn proved to be as neatly kept as the church and the grounds. There was the old car Beth had been kidnapped in. To her right, farming equipment had been hung up neatly. Everything from sickles, hoes, and shovels, to hammers, sledge hammers, and then rakes, were lined up neatly and ready for use. A manual lawn mower sat neat and clean, its blades sharp, in the corner, waiting for use.

To her left was a wall of saws, blades, chains, masks, leather clothes, sex toys, and a home-rigged sex swing. What drew the attention the most, however, was the long metal table along the back wall, opposite a ratty old pool table. On that table lay a woman with long blond hair. She was slight of build, like Beth, and her skin was so white as to look bloodless, though there was a distinctive blue tinge to it. Her ears had turned black and began to rot.

"Wake up, Reggie! Say hello to my new fiancé, Beth Greene."

Reggie turned her head sluggishly to face them. Upon smelling fresh meat she put up a weak fight to reach them. Her left foot had been cut off. That leg wasn't chained, but her right foot was chained to the table. Her hands were secured above her head. She hissed and growled, and Beth screamed when Father Thorn gripped her by the back of her neck and shoved her at Reggie.

Reggie's putrid body stank enough to make Beth want to lose her breakfast, but she'd gotten a strong stomach over the past couple of years and knew how to hold her food down in the face of terrible odors. What worried her was the proximity. Father Thorn was pushing her too close to the corpse, and it lunged forward, its slimy tongue slicking over the tip of Beth's nose.

"Wooo!" Father Thorn shouted gleefully. "That was close!"

He backed her off a little as Reggie continued to struggle in an effort to reach Beth.

"Not gonna cry?"

He shoved Beth back. She glared at him and wiped at her nose.

"You're made of stronger stuff than my first two women, Beth Greene."

"I've been on the road a lot. I've lost a lot of good people in my life. I've seen things you can't imagine. You think this scares me? This is nothing."

Anger crossed Father Thorne's face like a flash of lightning. Hate rumbled through his voice like a clap of thunder. "You saying my demonstration here isn't good enough to put the fear of God into you? You're some…what…super woman? Some road hardened warrior that's seen more death, suffering, and horror than I have? You don't know _what_ I've been through! You don't know what I've _seen_!"

"Same goes for you, Thorn."

_Don't push it, Beth_,she thought_._

He backhanded her. She saw it coming this time and managed to roll with it, as Daryl had taught her, but she lost her balance and fell to the floor. Her already cut lip split open and she looked up at him with hot resentment, rather than the fear he wanted to see in her eyes.

"Get up!" he shouted.

Beth got to her feet while he paced and cried.

"I had such a nice day planned and now you've gone and ruined it with your insults! You're so mean!"

The tears surprised her. She hadn't realized he was so immature, so underdeveloped emotionally. He looked to be in his mid to late twenties, but now he looked like an overgrown ten year old boy. A spoiled one at that. She wouldn't have been surprised if he fell to the ground and started kicking and screaming. He wanted her to apologize. She decided she wouldn't.

"You know what? You can go to your room. You can sit in there, in the heat, all closed up all day! I should put you in the box again but I'm nicer than you, aren't I? Aren't I!"

He was in her face, shouting. She nodded. "Yes."

Seeming at least a little appeased, Father Thorn gripped her arm. "Don't ever call me just Thorn again. I'm _Father_ Thorn. Understood?"

"Yes."

He still had that petulant sulk in his voice but he was calmer. He pulled the garage door shut before hauling her back into the church and shoving her into her room. He took her book and her candle, but he either decided to leave the fresh jug of water, or he forgot about it. She felt dark satisfaction that she'd managed to upset him so and send him into a tantrum.

"No lunch for you. I may not let you have dinner, either."

"I understand," she said. She didn't beg as he'd hoped, and that angered him even further. He slammed the door shut, leaving her in the room.

Beth approached the window when she was sure he was gone. She used the bucket that she'd emptied and washed that morning as a stool to lift her up high enough to look out into the back yard. The window bars were secure, but the window itself opened just fine. She sat on the bed once the window was open, prepared for a long, dull day in the heat. At least, she thought gratefully, there was a breeze that stirred the air every once in a while.

Later that evening she received a stingy plate of leftover chicken and half a corn cob for dinner. She ate, glad for the food, meager as it was, while sitting on the bed, and felt a particularly cool breeze flutter in. Outside it had begun to cloud over. Beth hoped it didn't rain. The humidity was bad enough without rain adding to it. For now, though, the cool wind was like heaven against her sweaty skin.

The door opened and he reached in for the plate. "No dessert for you, after the way you acted."

"What did I do wrong, Father Thorn?"

He looked incredulous. "You mocked me, you ungrateful bitch!"

"You almost got me bitten by a walker. How is that any way to treat your fiancé? It's disrespectful and mean."

"You're a woman. You don't deserve respect."

"Then why do you want to marry someone that doesn't deserve respect."

"There you go, mocking me again."

"I'm not mocking you. I'm just asking-"

He yanked out a knife and Beth went still. He jabbed it in her direction.

"No more questions. No more! You think you're such slick shit, just like all women do. You want men to kiss your asses and let you dominate us. Well I'm not going to do it! I won't be used by you. I'll sooner replace Reggie with _your _corpse. How'd you like that, Beth Greene?"

She shook her head. "I wouldn't."

"Then start showing me some respect."

She quickly nodded, hoping she hadn't pushed too far. To her relief, he turned and stormed out.

The rain Beth didn't want came in the middle of the night. It was fierce and cold. She covered up with her blanket but elected to leave the window open. She liked the feel of stirring air after she'd spent days locked up in still heat.

Something woke her near dawn. A grunting sound. She felt a chilly breeze on her privates and her eyes snapped open in alarm.

Father Thorn stood at the foot of her bed, his pants down, his cock in hand. He'd lifted her skirt to expose her, and now he stood masturbating. Terrified, Beth didn't move to cover up. She only looked at the window and the black square of darkness outside it.

Gasps turned to moans as Father Thorn beat off, his hand moving faster. She prayed that he wouldn't take it upon himself to rape her out of revenge for hurting his feelings the day before. She knew he wanted an apology, but she just couldn't bring herself to give him one. Besides, she doubted it would change anything now. Hell, it may even make it worse if he sensed any kind of weakness in her now.

"Oh, God…Oh, fuck!"

He shouted the words as he climaxed. She was surprised by how far his semen shot from him. It landed on her dress, some of it on her thigh, which seemed to make him come harder. He bent over when it was done, panting, sweating, gazing up at her with eyes bright with madness. He grinned.

"Makeup sex is fun, isn't it?" he said. He licked his lips, and she wanted to throw up. She felt soiled, dirty, violated, and she hated him for it.

"Piss me off again today, and I'll slap you on Reggie's table. I'll let her bite you, and turn you, and I'll rape you while you get sick and turn. Understand me?"

"I understand," Beth said quietly.

She waited until he was gone to clean as much of his semen off of her as she could. She dry heaved from disgust once, but managed to control her stomach. When she was as clean as she was going to get, Beth looked at her reflection in the polished mirror above the little basin she used as a sink. She knew she had to do something. She couldn't leave him to do this to another girl.

_I'm not going to run away from him_, Beth vowed. _I'm going to kill him_.

3.

Daryl spied the funeral home from the safety of the tree line. All was quiet, but that didn't mean much. Walkers were usually quiet when there was no fresh food around. Since the street was clear, he motioned for Joe to move, coming along behind him. They hurried across the street, and Daryl approached the door, which was now firmly shut. He banged loudly and then stopped to listen.

Silence.

"Go around back. I'll check the sides," he said. Joe nodded in agreement and moved off.

Daryl peered into the slats of the boarded windows, trying to see if anything moved inside. He saw and heard nothing on either side of the house.

"Clear," Joe said, his voice sounding loud in the quiet of the late evening. "The kitchen door is open. I already checked the basement, nothing."

Daryl came into the kitchen. Everything was neat and clean. The trap had been reset.

"They replaced the pig feet with sausages," Daryl noted. "Beth would have liked those better."

"We should stay the night," said Joe.

They were losing the light, and now it looked like rain was moving in. Daryl's heart said keep running, keep going until he found her, but his head said stop, rest, and start fresh in the morning.

"Yeah," he said, nodding. "We'll rest up here. We'll need to take watch in shifts. I'll take the first one."

They had a proper meal that Joe cooked on a propane powered stove, and then followed it up with stale pop tarts for dessert. Daryl took a seat on the couch in the main room and waited for the clock to wind around to two a.m., when Joe would take over.

_Where the hell are you, Beth? Are you all right? Are you even alive?_

He paced the funeral home. He and Beth had spent only one night there but she seemed to haunt every inch of the place. He kept seeing her sweet, trusting face, and that beautiful smile she so often shared with him.

Daryl didn't often pray. The truth was, he'd always been a bit sketchy on the idea of a God, and the outbreak had pretty much broken him of believing in an Almighty. Still, he was desperate to find Beth, and he'd take any help he could get. He figured it couldn't hurt to ask.

_Let me find her. Let me locate her alive and whole. That's all I'm asking for_.

He took a seat back on the couch and thought about where they'd go in the morning. He'd spotted some railroad tracks up the road. Maybe they would lead to a house or something that Beth may be holed up in with whoever took her.

The rain had apparently decided to stay.

Beth was surprised that Father Thorn had left the door of her room unlocked. She found him sitting in his own room, at the edge of his bed, with his head cradled in his hands. He was shirtless and wore only a pair of boxer shorts.

"I'll start breakfast," she said.

He didn't respond.

Beth cooked fried eggs and toast, and then heated water for tea. Father Thorn sat down and stared at her with so much hatred she could feel his gaze like a physical touch. He didn't make a move to eat his food. Instead he took his gaze from her to glare at the table.

_He's pouting_, she realized. She was dealing with an overgrown child with a propensity for violence.

"I don't think I'm going to marry you. You're not my type," he said. There was a slight trace of that petulant tone. He spoke like a child who was still sore from not getting the toy he'd wanted at the store.

He was doing something with his hand under the table, and Beth didn't think it had anything to do with jerking off. There was a thumping sound. He had something in his hand and it was making her nervous. Beth decided to take her plate to the sink, and she grabbed the kettle for good measure, since it was half full with scalding hot water.

The most dangerous thing about Father Thorn was his unpredictability. Beth didn't know him that well, but she knew she didn't want him calm and focused as he was now. She needed him erratic and reckless, as he'd been the day before. She had to get him there, and she figured she knew one sure fire way to do it.

She nodded, as though she wasn't surprised to hear this news from him. "I'm not weak enough for you. I get it."

"What?"

"I'm too strong for you," she said, loudly and slowly, as though addressing a particularly stupid child. "You're emotionally stunted and you don't even know it. You want someone you can scare and intimidate easily. I'm not that person. You're not getting what you need from me, so you don't want me."

"Don't fucking psychoanalyze me, you stupid bitch," he said, in a deadly calm voice. "You think you're slick. What, you've put down a couple of those things out there so you think you're the queen of the fucking jungle?"

She just stared at him. She deliberately ran her eyes up and down him, and allowed a look of disgust to curve her lips.

"What?" he said.

"You're a disappointment. I imagine your parents were also disappointed in you before this happened. You've probably let everyone in your life down. I'll bet you never had a girlfriend that you didn't have to kidnap and threaten with a knife, you fucking loser."

That did it. That got the reaction she was looking for.

"Shut up! Shut up!" he stood and shouted, and pointed a knife in her direction. "You don't know me! You don't know anything about me!"

"And if I don't shut up? What will you do then? Will you try to put your pathetic little baby dick in me? I'll bet you've never had sex with a willing woman. You've had to rape and mutilate every one you've ever met because there's not a woman in this world who'd have a piece of shit like you!"

He screamed like the madman he was. "I hate you! I fucking hate you!"

He came over the table in a clumsy assault. Beth pulled the top off the kettle and hurled the hot water directly in his face. He screamed in agony and rolled off the table. He hit the floor hard, and Beth brought the kettle down on his head with everything she had.

_Be vicious_, she thought. _Be brutal or you won't make it out of here alive_.

The time had finally come for her to take a human life. This wasn't a walker. This was a man, and she would have to end his life or he would kill her. She knew that, but that knowledge didn't make what she had to do any easier.

_Kill him. Kill him or you'll never see Maggie, Glenn, Daryl, Rick, Carl, Judith, or any other loved one ever again_.

He lashed out at her with his foot, nearly knocking Beth over. She tried to grab for the knife but he was blindly swinging it in her direction. With no other choice in front of her, and no other knives at her disposal, Beth turned and shoved her way out of the kitchen and ran with all she had for the barn. She slipped in the muddy earth and fell hard on her ass. She looked back and, to her horror, saw Father Thorn rush out at her.

Beth scrambled to her feet and pulled the barn door open.

"I'm gonna kill you, you fucking whore!"

The first weapon she came to was a scythe. She hoisted it off the wall but it was just too heavy for her to swing effectively in a fight. She still made an effort and took a hard swing at him. Though his eyes were blistered from the hot water, and blood poured into them, he could still make her out enough to dodge the blow and he received nothing more than a cut to his torso. Unfortunately, the cut was only a flesh wound and wasn't anywhere near fatal.

Thorn was running on pure hate, Beth could see that. Madness and hate were what fueled him to lunge at her again. She took off, searching the wall for something she could handle. She grabbed a claw hammer and then watched as he brought his knife down. It cut deeply into her arm but she ignored the pain and the fear that tried to root her to the spot as she saw her own blood pour from the wound.

With a mighty heave Beth swung the hammer and caught Father Thorn on his arm. He cried out in pain just as Reggie hissed and growled behind them. Beth swung again, this time aiming for his kneecap. She caught his left leg and he stumbled clumsily toward her, still trying to stab her. She dove to the side and then shoved him hard, aiming him right at Reggie. She pushed him forward, mercilessly, until his face was at Reggie's mouth.

Reggie did what her kind did - she bit in, sinking her teeth in deep, and pulled. Father Thorn screamed, and Beth staggered back, hitting her hip painfully on the parked car.

_She got her revenge_, Beth thought, watching Reggie snap and snarl at Thorn with a kind of vigor she'd lacked the day before. _Good for you_.

Father Thorn turned to face Beth. He was a mess. He was blistered, bloody, and now he had a fatal neck wound. He put his fingers to the bite, trying to staunch the flow of blood that spurted through his fingers as he sank to the barn floor.

"You've killed me."

"What's your name," she asked, also sliding down to sit on the barn floor. He was fading fast. She could see it, and the idea of never knowing his real name bothered her. She wanted to know the name of the first man she'd killed.

"Perry…Anson...Thorn. I just wanted you to love me."

Beth shook her head, sad for him, sad for the whole damn situation. "No, you didn't. You wanted me to live in fear of you."

"I won't get to go to heaven, will I?"

He was blinking hard, trying to focus on her as his life blood drained out of him.

"I don't know, but I hope you do. After all you've done, God help me…I hope you do."

He slid down, the knife slipping from his grip. Still cautious, in case it was a trap, she approached him. She raised the hammer high and brought it down, over and over, until she knew she'd done enough damage to end Father Thorn once and for all. Heaven help her if his corpse wound up killing another living soul because she'd left him to come back.

She stood up and gazed down at Reggie. The thing on the table that had once been a woman snapped hungrily at Beth.

"I'm sorry for what happened to you. It won't happen to another girl. You're his first, but I'm his last."

Beth raised her hammer, and then brought it down hard.

There were a lot of supplies in the church, and Beth hoped a group of good people came along some day, found it, and turned it into a home. After she cleaned and bandaged her arm, and dressed in her old clothes, she took the time to right the upturned crosses in the church sanctuary, and tore down the ugly posters. She also put the ripped up painting of the Last Supper in the barn to cover Reggie. After that, she took some supplies for the road, including a machete she found in Thorn's bedroom.

With a back pack full of supplies, Beth set out on the road. She was going to search the area. She was going to look until she found someone from the prison. Hopefully she would find Daryl, or Maggie and Glenn. They were the people she wanted to see the most. She would, she realized, have to do it on foot, since Thorn's car was on empty, and she didn't want the burden of trying to scavenge for gasoline.

After walking for almost half an hour in a warm rain, Beth came to some railroad tracks. She saw a map had been set up, with writing.

Terminus. Those who arrive survive.

Her location was marked with a star.

Had the others from the prison seen this? Was it possible Maggie and the others were heading toward Terminus? She knew they'd go, hoping to find others there, if they'd seen this sign. Hope lifted the corners of Beth's lips in a smile and, hefting her backpack, she started off down the tracks.

Daryl trudged through the rain. He scanned either side of the tracks, seeing nothing that looked even remotely like a home. Every step he took made his stomach feel as though a heavy rock had settled in, and it was getting bigger, heavier.

_This is fucking hopeless._

"What's that?" Joe asked.

"What?"

The old man was pointing further up the tracks. Daryl spotted something yellow. It was very small, but it made his heart thunder in his chest. Was that a person? It was. It was a person, he was sure of it.

"Can't be," he whispered.

Joe was smiling now. "We'll see soon enough."

Daryl dropped his bag and his crossbow. "Watch this."

Joe stopped and righted the bow before it could fall over. Daryl started up the tracks at a brisk walk, then broke out in a jog.

_My mind's playing tricks on me. It can't be her. It can't be…_

Soon he was running, because he knew it was her. He recognized her gait. He recognized her outline.

"Beth! Beth!" he shouted, uncaring if he brought a whole herd of walkers down on him. He pushed himself on as the woman on the tracks stopped. He waved his arms and called her name. A second later, she was running too.

Beth was lost in thought, fantasizing of finding Maggie or Daryl alive and well, when she heard it. It was a shout. Looking up, she saw a spec on the horizon. A spec that was growing larger, waving its arms, and yelling her name.

For a moment she stopped in complete disbelief. It was him. Good Lord, it was Daryl Dixon. She tucked her machete into the backpack and then took off running, knowing they were making enough noise to raise the dead-literally-but she didn't care. They'd found one another.

"Daryl!"

It seemed to take forever. There were times when Beth thought the harder she ran the further from her he was. After what felt like miles she reached him. She threw off her backpack and ran right into his open arms. He picked her up and squeezed her so tight she could hardly breathe. They remained there, locked in that embrace, until they caught their breath, then he sat her down.

"I thought I'd lost you," he said.

"You didn't give up?"

He shook his head. "Hell no. I'd never give up on you."

He kissed her. It was a hard kiss, mouths smashing happily together, tongues entwining joyously, and Beth committed every single moment of it to memory.

He looked at her bandaged arm and began firing off questions about where she'd been, and who had taken her. She promised they could talk about all of that later. Right now, she just wanted to move on.

"I love you, Daryl Dixon."

Daryl entwined his fingers with hers and picked up her backpack. "I love you too, Beth Greene. Now come on. I'm heading to Terminus."

"I saw the sign. We may find Maggie and the others there," she said, gripping his hand tight and praying this wasn't a sweet dream, that it was reality.

Daryl nodded. "I hope so."

Even if they didn't find other prison survivors, Beth mused, she knew one thing was for certain. She had Daryl Dixon, and she was never going to leave his side again.


End file.
